The Other Black
by RMaitres11
Summary: They didn't know her. They didn't know she even existed until she showed up violently on their doorstep one day. However, this seemingly insignificant person would be the cause that changed the tide of fate for so many lives, by simply changing the life of one... This change, though, like so many changes, comes at a cost, but to who? Someone PLEASE Read and Review! DM/Other
1. Chapter 1

She transgressed the city with ease, more ease then most, even when compared to muggles. It was late, close to midnight and the city's streets were deserted, mostly. Only the degenerates were out now skulking in the alleys and shadows. Not that that bothered her. She had spent most of her life in unsavory places, or what other people called unsavory, she on the other hand called it "the office". That was why she traveled this particular city with no concern, even though she had not been here before. She was not frightened of anything, and had no fear of what she would meet in this strange concrete jungle.

However she did not like cities. They were suffocating to her. All of the tall industrial buildings looming over head, the cramped and packed apartments and town houses, and the lights that drowned out the night and stars made her feel like she was trapped inside some sort of urban bubble. The wild was where she belonged. The open fields, marshy swamps, overgrown forests; that was where she felt most at home and at peace.

There was a serenity in being in the wilderness to her; in being surrounded by something that was simply trying to survive. Nothing in the wild wanted power or was greedy or took more than it needed. There were no motives or hidden agendas. Everything was as it should be, nothing more and nothing less. It was the only part of the world that truly made sense to her, unlike humanity. Despite, her love for the wilderness, though, she rarely found herself there. Her work typically pulled her away into the deepest, darkest of areas of society, magical and non-magical alike. Which was why she once again found herself in the "civilized world", even though now more than ever she wanted to simply fade away into the wild. She couldn't though; she wouldn't allow herself too. She had a lot of work to do.

She was only a few blocks from her destination. It had taken her months to track this place down, not counting the time it took her to get into the country itself. She wasn't in a rush though. What she was about to do was very sensitive, and she really didn't know what should would be walking into.

She slipped down an alleyway, knocking off two blocks worth of travel. Unfortunately, though, she was not alone. She had just squeezed past a dumpster that had been pushed awkwardly into the middle of the alley when a pair of hands reached out and grabbed her. She reacted instinctively, but before she could do anything a man walked towards her with a gun in his hands.

"Well, well, well... What do we have here?" said the man with the gun, a disgusting smile crossing his face. His eyes racked over her body in the orangish glow of a motion light that was activated due to the incident. "Looks like we've caught ourselves a good one Earl." the gun man said eyeing her body greedily still.

Earl, croaked out a laugh and said, "Looks like it is our lucky night, hey Deno?"

"Lucky indeed." Deno said chuckling darkly. "But what's this love? Why hide your face? It cant be that ugly. And even if it is your body certainly makes up for it." Earl laughed loudly and Deno's disgusting smile turned evil. "What do you say we have look, hmm?"

She stood there passively, unperturbed by the men or their evil intentions. She watched as Deno walked towards her, his gun still pointing at her. She waited until his fingers were inches from her face when she said, "I wouldn't if I were you."

Deno's hand froze. "Why?"

"Because it will be the end of you... and your friend."

They both laughed at her. "I seriously doubt that, love." said Earl. "Go on Deno, lets have a look."

Deno easily removed the gauzy, black lace that masked her face. His jaw dropped at what he saw.

"Well?" asked Earl impatiently after a few seconds, "Is she a looker or what?" But Deno didn't answer him. He just stared at her, entranced.

Earl was getting frustrated with Deno. Foul words were streaming out of his mouth as he yelled at Deno, but Deno ignored him, his focus solely on her. Once Earl's obscenities had subsided, his captive very quietly said, "Deno," the gun man's body twitched slightly in response. "Will you do something for me?" Deno nodded his head.

"What is this? Deno?" said Earl angry and confused. Deno still ignored him.

"Deno," the girl said calmly, "shoot him."

Instantly the girl, broke free of Earl's grasp and dropped to the ground. The shot echoed loudly in the alley, but Earl's body made a dull THUMP as it fell limply to the ground. Deno stood still, his gun still pointing where Earl's head had previously been.

The girl stood up slowly, barely glancing at Earl's body behind her. She straightened her clothes then held out her hand to Deno. "May I have my lace back please?" Deno handed it over to her obediently. She quickly secured it back over her face. She walked up to him and patted his face in an endearing way even though it was a little rough and said, "Be a doll, Deno, and take care of yourself for me, will you?" She then turned and continued down the alley. By the time she reached the end of it the sound of a second gunshot resonated in the air followed by another dull thump. She walked out of the alley and crossed the street not bothering to look back.

After uneventfully traveling three more blocks, she finally had reached her destination. Or so she thought. She hid amongst an unkept park that was located in the middle of the block as she staked out her target. Curiously, though, it appeared that her targeted destination did not exist.

She was looking at a row of identical townhouses. They were numbered one through fifteen, however there were only fourteen houses. The number twelve townhouse was non-exist. She pulled out a photo from her personnel. She smiled at it sadly, then flipped it over and read:

Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

The few words were scrawled in her mother's handwriting. Her mum had given it to her at a very young age. It was a back-up plan. If anything were ever to happen to her mum or if they ever got separated she was suppose to go to Grimmauld Place.

She examined the townhouses again. She counted one through eleven, then the numbers skipped to thirteen. She stowed the picture away, than began surveying the surrounding area. She knew her mother would not have given her a faulty address, and she also knew that she was not going to figure out where Number 12 Grimmauld Place was anytime soon. She needed to find a safe place to stake the block out until something useful presented itself.

She had just decided that the clock tower opposite the townhouses would be a perfect place for the stakeout when a popping noise echoed in the air. She froze, posed for anything. A man had appeared only a few feet from her.

He was a short man with a bald head and a bad wheeze like he had been doing strenuous work. He checked his surroundings closely then crossed the street towards the row of townhouses. He quickly surveyed the area around him again giving him a suspicious air. Then he just stood there between townhouses eleven and thirteen. Minutes passed, then, not believing her luck, she watched as the number twelve townhouse forced itself between eleven and thirteen. She watched the bald man hurry inside and shut the door. She stealthily left her hiding place and raced across the street, but by the time she reached the townhouses, Number 12 had been pushed back into oblivion by eleven and thirteen. She was not discouraged, though. She crossed back to the park and waited.

An hour or so had passed by the time Number 12 reappeared. This time the bald, wheezing man was leaving with, she noticed, a considerably large sack slung across his shoulder. He surveyed the area as he quickly crossed the street back into the park. With incredible speed she sprang at the man. The man gave a yelp of surprise. He dropped his sack and reached for his wand but she was to fast. Within seconds she had his wand in hand and a knife pressed to his throat. He sputtered in protest.

"Quiet!" she growled dangerously in his ear. "We are going to have a little chat you and I." she said. Before he could so much as blink, she had stunned him with a blow to the back of his head. He hung limply in her arms.

"Wake up." she said as she nudged him roughly with her foot.

"Wha- -where am I?" the man asked as he dazedly took in his surroundings. He struggled against the ropes that were binding him to no avail nearly knocking himself out of the chair he was occupying. "Who are you? Listen if Vinny sent you- -"

"I don't know a Vinny." she said cooly. She watched him as he looked around him apprehensively. "Where am I?" he asked again.

"A clock, obviously." she said as she leaned against the face of the clock. They were held up in the clock tower that was across from Grimmauld Place.

He looked at her fearfully. "Who are you? What- -What do you want?" his voice cracked a little. She didn't answer. Instead she studied the man before her. She decided, as she watched him fidget nervously in his constraints, that he was a pathetic, weak man, a man that she could easily intimidate.

"How do I get into Number 12 Grimmauld Place?" she asked finally ignoring his previous question.

"What? I don't know what your talking about." the man replied quickly, not meeting her eye.

"Don't lie to me." she said in a deadly whisper. "I know you know how to get in there. I saw you earlier tonight." He gulped. He was sweating and he was eyeing her anxiously, but he said nothing. "Besides," she said picking up his sack and pulling out some silver trinkets, "it looks as if you were looting the place to me... I find that highly offensive." she examined a goblet that had the Black family crest embellished on it. Her temper flared.

"I- -I'm not telling you nothing." he said attempting bravery, but he failed.

She dropped the goblet back into his sack and slowly walked towards him. He leaned back as far as he could in his bindings, panic covering his face. "Do you know what I love to do?" she asked pulling out a concealed knife from her personnel. The man watched the knife like a hawk. "I love," she placed the knife at his throat, "to see just how close," she ran the knife slowly up his neck, "I can shave a man's beard before I knick one of his arteries." she finished scraping the knife from his neck to his face, slicing the stubble from his skin. She placed the knife again across his throat and racked upward nicking his jaw painfully this time. "Ow!" the man cried as the air stung his now bleeding cut. "Ive gotten pretty good at it," she said making a third pass. "But I do seem to have one tricky spot." She took the knife and placed the tip against the right side of his throat. "It's right here at the jugular. I don't know what it is, but it must have something to do with the curvature of the neck that makes it so... difficult for me to shave." She had now racked the knife across his stubble a fourth time. It seemed to do the trick.

"Al'righ, al'righ!" he cried "Ill tell you what you want, just please stop!"

"How do I get in Number 12 Grimmauld Place?" she asked.

"You have to stand between number elven and thirteen, and concentrate upon the address."

"That's all?"

"That's all."

"Why were you looting the place?" It came old a little more coldly then she intended.

"I thought I could make a few bucks off of the silver. I'm an... antiques dealer you see." He said.

"Your a thief," she spat out. "Don't you think the residents of Number 12 will miss their silver?

"The place is abandoned."

"Why?" She hadn't expected this.

"It's... It's compromised. Its not safe to stay their anymore." He said hesitantly like he was giving up information he wasn't suppose to share.

"Why?" she asked again twirling her knife between her hands for effect. It worked.

"It was a safe house, now there is a possibility the houses location may be compromised. Don't ask me any more please! I cant tell you any more!"

"Who's not suppose to know about the house?"

"He Who Must Not be Named. Now no more, no more questions!"

She ignored his pleads and asked, "Is the owner of the house still alive?"

"I- -I can't say." the man said wincing as the words came out of his mouth. He knew that was not the appropriate answer.

"Is he alive? Is Sirius Black alive or not?" She growled angrily. She needed to know.

"I don't know," sobbed the man, "I don't know!"

Not even bothering to tease him anymore, she quickly drew her knife across his cheek. It was a shallow cut, harmless, but it was all she needed to do.

"Yes, yes he's alive!" he howled.

"Where is he?"

The man just sobbed.

"Where is he?" she asked again, louder this time, her patience wearing thin.

He still didn't answer her. "If you dont tell me, I will continue to slice down your face to your neck, then it will be too late for you." she said coldly holding the knife just below his first cut. He cried loudly now, his head bobbing slightly from his sobs. She drew her knife across his skin once more cutting him. He cried out in pain. She placed the knife below the second cut. "Where?" A soft mumbled escaped his lips. "Speak up! Don't make me ask again." She threatened.

"He's at the the Burrow! He's staying with Weasley's! That's all I know, I swear. I swear it." He cried weakly.

She jerked him up roughly. She pointed her knife at his gut. "You will take me there. Now. And if you take me anywhere else but there, I will spill your guts before we even arrive, do you understand me?"

He nodded his head quickly, "yes, yes."

"Let's go." she ordered, and they apparated on the spot, his sack and Grimmauld Place forgotten.


	2. Chapter 2

It was early morning when they arrived on the dirt road. The sun was barely seeping over the horizon, but the light was just enough for the captured man to see the deadly look upon her face.

"I warned you- -"She whispered her knife painfully pinned to his gut.

"It's down the road! It's down the road!" he cried before she could fillet him there on the spot. She said nothing, her knife still poised to pierce his innards, But he continued, "It's pro-protected!" he winced a little as the pressure of the knife was slowly increasing. "We have to walk to it! No one can apparate there! We have to walk..." He finished feebly as she retracted her knife relief washing over him. He was still trembling, though.

She shoved him before her wordlessly, but he understood. Silently, he led her down the dirt road. He stumbled at times, his bindings constricting his movement, but they kept pace. Finally, just as the tip of the sun broke the horizon, they stopped.

What stood before them was, nothing. They had reached the end of the dirt road and grassy fields as far as the eye could see were glistening in the morning sun.

Her captive by this time was sobbing again and muttering weakly, "Please... please don't make me, don't make me, please..."

She understood. "Can you see it?"

"Y-Yes," he stammered.

"Can they see us?" she asked quietly.

"No... No one is outside."

"But if they were, could they see us?"

"Yes..." he breathed out.

"Then this is how it's going to go. You are going to tell me how I can get in there, or I will spill your innards on the ground right here for them all to see. And when one of them comes to examine your lifeless body I will take them hostage, and I will keep spilling guts and taking hostages until I get what I want. So you can either end the cycle now," She dug her knife into his back painfully, "or begin it."

His body heaved with sobs, but just barely distinguishable between his wails, was the information she needed.

In minutes, before her very eyes, materialized a very mismatched, crooked house. She thought it looked more of a hazard rather then a safe house. Surely, they could have found somewhere less likely to cave in on itself as a suitable haven, but she ignored this initial thought and steered her captive towards the dwelling.

It was barely sunrise by the time Harry arrived at the Burrow, but he didn't care. He couldn't have been happier. It was his favorite place filled with all of his favorite people. He had received warm hugs and greetings from the Weasley's, friendly handshakes from Lupin and Tonks and few of the other order member's, and, most importantly, a fatherly embrace from the only man he had any claim to as family: Sirius Black.

"Harry, m'boy," Sirius said warmly, " glad to see your safe! I wanted to come and retrieve you from you aunt and uncle with Dumbledore, but..."

"I know, It's alright." Harry said grinning broadly. He didn't want Sirius out in public as much as Dumbledore didn't, but he knew it was hard on his Godfather.

Sirius clapped Harry on the shoulder lovingly, then ushered him out with the rest of the Weasley kids. An Order meeting was to be held that morning and Snape had just arrived, the last member needed. The Weasley's, Harry and Hermione begrudgingly began to climb back upstairs.

The twins didn't go with a protest, "We're of age!", "We're old enough to included!"

"Absolutely not!" their mother exclaimed, "Off to bed all of you! it's been a late night for all of us, and you need your rest. Now go!" She ordered. Sirius gave Harry an inconspicuous wink, then turned back towards the crowd now seated around the Weasley's kitchen table. In their final protest, the group trouped up the stairs at the pace of a snail hoping to catch some information, but Mrs. Weasley instinctively knew their intentions. She flashed her eyes dangerously at them as a final warning. With new gusto they continued their ascent, but before they could even reach the first landing a horrible scream filled the air. Everyone froze. There was a another scream, then the sound of scraping chairs as the Order members quickly filed out of the house.

"Stay inside!" ordered Mrs. Weasley as she followed suit of the other members, but naturally Harry, Hermione and the Weasley children ignored her.

Harry bolted out of the house, his wand in hand, but he nearly collided with Tonks who had stopped just feet from the door. In fact everyone was standing quite still, and Harry quickly saw why. Mundungus Fletcher was not Harry's most favorite person in the world. He was a sneaky coward, but as Harry saw him standing there battered and beaten, sobbing openly, he couldn't help but to feel for him. He was tightly bound, had blood smeared across his face due to the tears streaming down his cheeks and seemed absolutely horrified. Harry realized, though, that Mundungus was not the point of interest for the others.

At first, he did not see it, but eventually, he noticed the black silhouette that was hovering behind Mundungus. Then he heard the disembodied voice of a girl echo through the air over Mundungus's sobs.

"I wish to speak to Albus Dumbledore." she said calmly, her voice laced with authority.

Harry was shocked. Albus Dumbledore was standing right before her and she didn't recognize him? It had never dawned on him that there may be a witch or wizard who did not know who Dumbledore was.

Dumbledore however seemed unperturbed by the stranger's ignorance. He slowly took a step forward and said, "I am Albus Dumbledore."

"I have come here to request an audience with you." she said.

"Bit extreme isn't it?" Harry heard Ron mumble beside him, "The old bat would see her at any time wouldn't he?" Harry ignored him though, his senses to heightened with the situation to care. The other wizards seemed to be thinking the same thing as he. They all had their wands out and ready to strike, except for Dumbledore, who Harry thought was being far to pleasant for the situation at hand.

Dumbledore appeared to be studying her, then slowly said, "I will grant you that audience, but I must insist, that you let Mundungus go first." Seconds pasted in silence, the air thick with tension. Harry could feel his adrenaline ramp up as the silence grew longer.

"My mother said you were an honorable man, please don't prove her wrong." she said quietly. They watched her hesitantly as she placed a hand across the cuts on Mundungus's face. He howled pathetically in protest, but she ignored him. When she pulled her hand away his skin was smooth and unharmed. Then in a blink of an eye his bindings were gone and Mundungus was running towards the Burrow.

No one relaxed, though. There was something about her that just seemed threatening. She was covered from head to toe in black, with no skin showing, not even her hands or face, and the way she carried herself clearly showed she was a very capable witch. Harry glanced over at his Godfather in an attempt to catch his eye, then did a double take.

Sirius was standing very still. His eyes were wide and he seemed to be holding his breath with horrified anticipation, as was, Harry curiously noticed, Lupin who seemed just as apprehensive about the new visitor.

Harry refocused on the girl, curiosity slowly starting to take over his adrenaline. He watched her as she slowly, reached somewhere in her personnel and pulled out a wand, He felt everyone shift aggressively. Whether she noticed the increased tension before her Harry was unsure. She held the wand vertically in her hand, then, slowly, she dropped her hand away, leaving the wand suspended in midair. Everyone watched as the wand gracefully floated towards Mundungus. He just stared at it sputtering.

"A show of good faith." she said forcefully. Mundungus must have heard more to her voice than Harry did because he immediately grabbed his wand from the air. Though, it was clear he wanted to do anything but that.

This whole time Dumbledore just watched her, almost as if he was unaware of the others. There was true concern across his face unlike Harry had ever seen before. He felt his skin prickling with anticipation. Another tense spout of silence filled the air before Dumbledore said, "Who are you?"

A few more seconds passed in silence. Then, seeming to have decided something, the girl reached up and slowly unbound her face. There was an audible gasp from the crowd, and Harry heard Lupin say, "It can be..." Harry glanced at his godfather. Sirius had paled almost instantly at the sight of her. She ignored their responses, though, her eyes fixed on Dumbledore and said, "My name is Seraphine de'Veau Black, and I've come to seek refuge."

Harry had never seen such a spectacle before. Only minutes ago, they were poised for a fight with Seraphine in their cross hairs. Now they were all crammed into the Weasley's kitchen intrigued and desperate to learn who she was.

Though, it seemed that some people already knew. Standing, pale faced in the back of the room was Sirius shocked into impenetrable silence. Lupin also was flabbergasted into a quiet ravine. He stood by the fire, not really looking at anyone, but he would cast a glance back at Sirius every now and then. The other person completely bothered by Seraphina, to Harry's surprise, was Snape. His waxy face looked as if he was looking at a ghost from the past, but Harry didn't understand any of this. She could be no older then he was, and it sounded like she had lived all of her life outside of England. There was no way that either of these three men could possibly know her, but clearly they seemed to think other wise.

The one thing that didn't surprise Harry, though, was that Dumbledore seemed to know her, or at least he seemed to know of her. Once everyone had settled down in the Weasley's kitchen an unnatural silence filled the room. Harry, like the others had turned his attention to Seraphine, but Hermione tugged at his shirt sleeve distracting him.

"Don't look her in the eyes." She whispered quietly.

"Why?" asked Ron surprised.

"Just don't. I'll explain later." Hermione urged, but she was drowned out by Dumbledore.

Harry quickly returned his attention to Seraphine. Despite Hermione's warning, though, Harry couldn't help but to look at her. She was beautiful. She had midnight black hair that hung down to her hip in a very thick braid with massy bangs that fell perfectly about her face. Her skin was the clearest, healthiest looking skin he had ever seen. It was a beautiful shade of porcelain that had the slightest tinge of pink at her cheeks that matched the soft pink of her full lips. Her most beautiful feature, though, were her eyes. They were big, with long thick black lashes that framed her deep red irises.

Harry couldn't understand what Hermione meant by "don't look her in the eyes". They were the most breathtaking thing he had ever seen. What harm came from looking at something so beautiful. Harry felt himself lean forward. He wanted a little closer look at her. He felt something tug on his sleeve, but he ignored it. Nothing could pull him away from those two beautiful red orbs- -

"Seraphine, if you would be so kind as to adjust your eyes?" Dumbledore asked kindly. It didn't register to Harry what Dumbledore had said until Seraphine's eyes flashed to black. He shook his head slightly, suddenly becoming very aware of his surroundings. He had almost forgotten where he was. he quickly glanced around the kitchen noticing others, men and women alike, straightening up shaking their head in an attempt to clear their minds.

"I told you," insisted Hermione quietly, "I told you not to look her in the eyes!"

Harry cleared his throat uncomfortably and repositioned himself in his chair refocusing on Seraphine cautiously, but it seemed that her black eyes held no power over him or anyone else.

"Im... I'm sorry." she muttered uncomfortably, "It's just I haven't really been able to- -"

"It's alright," Dumbledore said smiling warmly at her for the first time, "Thank you."

She smiled at him weakly. She was the most peculiar thing Harry had ever seen. Just moments ago she was this beautiful, deadly creature. Now she looked almost... meek. She was no less beautiful, she just didn't seem as lethal as before; and she looked more of her age: young, sweet, almost normal.

"Are you hungry?" Dumbledore asked. "Molly is a stupendous cook." Mrs. Weasley blushed despite the circumstances.

"No... I'm fine, thank you." Seraphine said politely.

A few seconds passed then Dumbledore said, "You said you needed refuge?"

"Yes."

Dumbledore inspected her over his half-moon spectacles knowingly. "From Voldemort?"

Seraphine didn't even blink at the name. "Yes." she said without fear.

"Where were you before you came here?" Albus asked his face dark.

"I was in the swamps of Louisiana." Harry heard Hermione whisper 'wow' breathlessly clearly in understanding. He, on the other hand, had never heard of Louisiana. "I had been on the run from Voldemort for over a year. But... he found me. That was when I decided I needed to come here and find you."

Dumbledore's face was grave, concerned. He sat there in silence for a few seconds lost in thought, then "Where is your mother, Belladonna?"

"She died three years ago." she said very frank.

"What?" asked Lupin shocked. He looked at Seraphine for the first time. Harry glanced at Sirius and Snape. Snape's face hardened into an unreadable mask, his skin ghost white, but Sirius slowly sank against the wall, his face in his hands.

"H-how?" Sirius finally croaked out, anguish in his voice.

"She was murdered on Voldemort's orders. Though... I didn't know that until later. At first I thought it was a rouge warlock from the Swamplands. It took me a year-and-a-half to track him down. It was only until after... a little persuasion did I learn the truth." Seraphine explained, her voice dangerous once more. Harry saw her eyes flash a little, but she seemed to keep herself under control.

"What did you do then?" Dumbledore pressed, his voice dark as if he already knew the answer.

"I killed him," she said calmly. A chill ran up Harry's spin. He had never heard of someone talk about killing so easily except for Voldemort. "Then I spent the next year-and-a-half hiding in that swamp until he found me." silence followed heavily as the room slowly absorbed what she had said.

"But why does Voldemort want to kill you so desperately, that he, himself, would go all the way to the Swamplands to do it?" Lupin asked voicing the question that had been burning in Harry's head.

"He doesn't want to kill me," Seraphine explained looking at Lupin, "he wants to use me." She turned her attention back to Dumbledore and said "And we both know how devastating that would be."

It was mid afternoon by the time Dumbledore had stopped questioning Seraphine. He and Snape left almost instantly, but not before arrangements were made for Seraphine. It had been decided, rather uncertainly that Seraphine was to stay at the Burrow the rest of the summer, then since she was of age, she would join them at Hogwarts for the coming school year.

All of the Weasley children had slipped away into their bedroom for some much needed sleep towards the end of meeting, but Harry, Ron and Hermione had hung around as long as possible until Mrs. Weasley shooed them away, insisting they needed sleep. Seraphine was left in the kitchen.

"Just think," Ron said as he, Harry and Hermione climbed the stairs, "an admitted killer will be roaming the halls of our school! Oh I can't wait to see what she does to old Filch and his ruddy cat. They'll be dead within the week!"

"That's not funny, Ron!" scolded Hermione, not bothering to stop at the room her and ginny shared. She continued up with the boys to Ron's room. "She's dangerous. You saw what she did to Mundungus. I'm surprised Dumbledore even considered letting her attend Hogwarts considering..." She lowered her voice considerably causing the boys to lean forward so they could hear her, "considering what she is."

"Hermione, what are you going on about?" Ron said rather loudly.

"Keep your voice down!" She said in a panicked whisper, "I'll tell you once we are in your room.

They had to climb one more flight of stairs before they were safely locked in Ron's room, but that wasn't enough for Hermione. She made the room sound proof with a quick wave of her wand.

"Now what are you going on about, Hermione?" asked Ron tersely, "What is she?"

Hermione sighed heavily and sat down on Ron's bed before she explained. "She's a siren."

"What?" Harry asked picturing the few pictures he had seen of birds with women's heads singing to sailors at sea.

"Didn't you notice her eyes, and how she affected everyone in the room?" Hermione question exsaperated.

"But I thought sirens... were winged things, you know? Out at sea?" Harry said trying to understand.

"Oh Harry, that's the muggles' interpretation of sirens."

"But... so what?" said Ron not grasping why Hermione's voice was so grave. "She can attract men, that's not that big of a deal. Veela's do the same thing."

"Oh Ron honestly!" Hermione snapped hotly, "Siren's or not Veela's! They're worse... They're much worse. And the fact that Voldemort want's her is horrifying. If he could persuade her to join his side- -"

"Would you mind explaining to us what you know? Or are you just going to keep muttering to yourself incoherently?" Ron snapped.

Hermione glared at him then said, "A Siren does more then attract men. They can twist them, use them as they please, and it's not just men. You saw how everyone was in the kitchen before she masked her eyes. They were enraptured by her and she wasn't even doing anything! She was just sitting there..."

"Er... Alright." said Harry sharing a confused glance with Ron, "How is that bad?"

"You know how the Imperio spell works? You cast it upon somebody and you can make them do whatever you want?"

"Yeah." said Harry and Ron together.

"And you know how even though the person is cursed they can choose to fight the curse if they want?"

"Yeah, so?" Ron said.

"Well the trance of a Siren is sort of like that, but worse. There is no spell that a Siren uses; it's just the simple appeal of them that enraptures a person. And once they have a victim they can get that person to do what ever they want."

"How?" Harry asked his skin prickling.

"It's said that a Siren convinces her victims to do what she wants by misleading them. The person thinks they are hugging a person, when they really are strangling them with their hands, but they don't know what they are doing. They think they are involved in an innocent act so they happily follow the Sirens every order. It's very complicated, very old magic... I-It's not even really understood. That's why Seraphine is so dangerous." Hermione finished with dread upon her face.

"And that's why Voldemort wants her." said Ron understanding now, "She would be an unstoppable weapon."

"Exactly," said Hermione nodding gravely," she would lead the masses to their death, like a flock of sheep to the slaughter, and no one would be the wiser."

Harry didn't say anything. He just stared out of Ron's window, thinking. If what Hermione said was true, he didn't understand why Dumbledore was inviting her to the castle either. More importantly, though, he wondered what connection this mysterious girl had with his beloved Godfather, most respected teacher, and the person he despised most.


End file.
